Young BladesBeginning of the End
by KristiLynn
Summary: Jacqueline's past comes back to haunt her as she starts her new life.
1. Chapter 1

"YOUNG BLADES"

Author's Note: This was supposed to be a short follow-up to "Secrets"--maybe four or five pages--showing character reactions to what happened and what was revealed.

But everyone knows how Jacqueline and D'artagnan are: they have minds of their own. So I turned it into more of a "what if" story: what if Mazuran was killed, by one of his own henchmen, and they were free to live their lives like they wanted? Then, in a dream, I came up with the idea of the "evil uncle" and decided to give it more of a psychological edge. Next thing I know, it's more of a novella.

As far as the romance goes, I call them as I see them. And these two are the most romantic "old couple" since Zorro and Victoria in the "New World Zorro" series of the nineties. Too, while mysteries and conspiracies are fine--most of the time--I wanted to explore more of a romantic side to my two favorite characters. Let me know if I got the characterizations right.

A lot of fan fiction writers mention Sirroc having been a slave before joining the Musketeers, but I don't remember seeing that in the show, so I added my own spin to how he came to the Musketeers. And as far as Ramón goes, I don't remember hearing how he came to Paris, so I made up something. Forgive me if I deviate from "official" canon.

Jacqueline's evil uncle, the Comte' (who is based on a character from some novel I read years ago), and Kristina (whom I created back in high school for a story in Composition) are all my characters. Everyone else belongs to PAX TV and the wonderful actors (and actress) who bring them to life for us to enjoy. No profit is intended. I just do this to fill in time at doctors' offices.

Feedback is welcome. Flames will be fed to the hogs. YOUNG BLADES"

"BEGINNING OF THE END"

Chapter One:

The date is Friday, April seventeenth, seventeen fifty. It is mid-morning on a cloudy, overcast day in Paris, France. The cobblestone street not far from the Royal Palace is crowded, despite the dismal weather: elegantly dressed riders on finely bred horses, heavy draft horses pulling wagons, and women (most with children tagging along) out doing their daily shopping.

Jacque LaPont is walking down the narrow sidewalk--obviously lost in thought, as he is only vaguely aware of his surroundings. He's dressed in the well-recognized uniform of the King's Musketeers and carries a finely made sword with ease (one hand always on the hilt) as he walks slowly back towards the Barracks.

D'artagnan catches up, catching him by the arm and pulling him to a stop in the doorway of a small unoccupied shop. He too is dressed in uniform and carrying a sword. His manner is kind and concerned as he steps in front of his friend and comrade, "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you?" His voice is deep, with an upper-class French accent.

Jacque looks up, obviously touched at his friend's concern. His own voice isn't quite as deep and has less of an accent, "I'm sorry to have worried you. But I need to do some thinking. And I need to be alone to do it. I need to get away from that--pit--where the bodies of his victims were dumped. I cannot stand to be there."

D'artagnan forces Jacque to look up, "You are worried about Mazuran?"

Jacque nods, his dark blue eyes serious, "Exactly. For the last two years, my life has revolved around bringing Mazuran to justice, to make him pay not only for the deaths of my father and brother, but also all of those other nameless ones. And for the lives he so callously destroyed, including my own. But now--"

"You are left wondering what will happen next," D'artagnan finishes quietly.

"Oui." Jacque looks around anxiously, but no one is paying any undue attention to the two Musketeers, since people are so used to seeing the four young men in the area near the Palace. But he still lowers his voice (out of old habit), "And now that he is dead--I am not sure what to do. I have no family left anymore, since Bernard killed my brother.

My father was murdered by the same man a year before that. My mother died when I was ten years old. And I have no idea where her parents are--or if they would even care what happened to her and her family. All of the sudden, it is over. With no warning, everything has come to an end with a single act."

Early this morning, Captain Duvall (the head of the King's Musketeers) received word that Cardinal Mazuran (their archenemy and one of the young King's closest advisors) was found dead in his office of a single stab wound to the chest. Knowing the number of enemies the man had made, considering that he led an organized crime ring that controlled all of Paris as well as practicing human sacrifice, no one was really surprised. But what did surprise them were the detailed journals that were discovered in his desk--detailing his criminal activities--including a complete listing of his cohorts and victims.

The King, upon learning of what the journals revealed, plus the long-term investigation having been carried out by the Musketeers, immediately ordered arrest warrants for the men named in the journals, and (at the suggestion of Captain Duvall) issued unconditional pardons for all of those accused unjustly of crimes by the Cardinal.

The dungeons are being searched for the innocent men and women. Money will be given to them, or their families, if they are discovered to be in financial straits as the result of his actions.

A deep pit was discovered not far from the Palace with the remains of several bodies (most of which will remain unidentified due to the advanced state of decay and lack of identifying items). But the King will pay for the victims to be given a Christian burial in a private cemetery on the outskirts of Paris.

Among those being given a pardon are Jacqueline Roget. She was accused by the Cardinal (and hunted mercilessly for two years) of murder. In reality, she simply defended herself and her father from one of his guards. She managed to escape in the confusion and has been hiding ever since.

The Musketeers, being infinitely familiar with Mazuran's activities, were called in to help with the investigation and locating the victims and/or their families. Jacque finally left--without telling anyone where he was going. D'artagnan can't hide his worry for his close friend, "Now--you wonder what will happen next?"

"Mazuran is the reason I became a Musketeer--remember?"

"I remember--all to well."

"I need to decide what to do now. My father's parents are dead. And his brother has taken over the family farm--not that I was on good terms with him prior to that. I never met my mother's parents, so I don't know if they would even care about what has happened to him or Gerard." Jacque looks up into his friend's brown eyes--hoping to see understanding. But what he sees makes his heart skip a beat.

D'artagnan takes his friend's arm and pulls him down the sidewalk towards the Barracks. "Tell you what--let's go back to the Barracks and pack enough for a night or two. I'll tell Duval that we're going to question the families of some of Mazuran's victims, who live out from Paris, which is true. You need to get away, and we need to talk. But this time--I don't want to talk to Jacque, my friend and comrade. This time, I want to talk to Jacqueline--a woman I care deeply about."

Startled at the softly spoken words, Jacque looks up, "Give me a few minutes to pack a few things."

"Including a dress--I hope," D'artagnan flashes a grin, causing Jacque to punch his arm lightly.

Chapter Two:

After an early lunch at a sidewalk cafe, the two leave Paris. Captain Duvall didn't ask any questions, merely telling them to report back what they learn when they return.

Sirroc, tall with curly blond hair (and the brains of the four--being well versed in both medicine and science), and Ramón' de la Cruz (who came from Spain looking for adventure after the death of his childhood sweetheart in an accident), tall and dark with flashing dark eyes (their resident gourmet, poet, and prankster), decide to remain behind and try and locate the victims and their families--seeing to their safety and security. Neither mentions Jacqueline Roget--knowing D'artagnan will see to the young woman himself.

Jacque, mounted on his tall dapple gray Anglo/Arab (Thoroughbred/Arabian cross) mare, Duchess, is content to follow D'artagnan on his flaxen chestnut Anglo/Norman (Thoroughbred/Norman Cob) gelding, Charles.

They leave Paris and it's cobbled streets for the nearly deserted countryside to the north of the city. The forest, here in mid-April, is cool and dark--with a fine mist rising from the ponds they pass and the wide, but shallow, streams that they cross. An hour from town, they turn off the main road and onto a seldom-used side road. Well-trained and used to hours of carrying their riders at a fast pace through often difficult situations, the two horses slow from an easy canter to a cautious walk--especially when the sun vanishes behind the clouds and a heavy drizzle begins falling--making the thick carpet of leaves even more slippery beneath their hooves.

Both riders are lost in their own thoughts.

Three hours from Paris, after taking yet another road--this one even less traveled than the other--they rein up at a small clearing in the forest. Jacque looks at the small, one room, stone cottage, then the small two stall stable (with a paddock), and lastly at a mound of earth--marked by a single roughly carved wooden cross. Though beaten down by a year of wind and rain, it is obviously a fairly recent grave--but no grass grows on it, indicating that it has been carefully tended since the body it holds was first placed there.

A fairly fresh handful of wildflowers lies on top. There is another mound in the edge of the trees, much less cared for and unmarked.

Jacque turns in the saddle to look at her best friend, shocked and hurt that he would bring her here, of all places, a sob in her voice, "Why have you brought me here--to relive the most painful time of my life? I never thought you could be so cruel to me!"

"Jacqueline--I am not being cruel. This is where everything between us came to a head." D'artagnan reins up beside his friend and looks at his friend, "We need to talk--away from anything that could interrupt us." He dismounts and drops the reins, ground-tying the gelding, before turning to help Jacque down, lifting her easily by the waist and holding her briefly against him before releasing her (albeit reluctantly), "I'll unsaddle the horses and turn them out so that they can rest as well. Why don't you go inside and light a fire? We're going to be here a while, so we should be comfortable."

Taking a deep breath, Jacque turns and unties her saddlebags and rucksack. But before she can take a step towards the cottage, he catches her by the arm and hands her a carefully wrapped package that he pulled from behind his own saddle, "And why don't you change into what's in this--so you'll be more comfortable. It will be a few moments before I come in."

Curious, Jacque accepts the package and vanishes inside the cottage. To her amazement, it is spotless (especially considering that three men regularly use it)--with a fire ready to be lit in the small fireplace. There is a small table with two chairs, set with nice pewter plates and flatware. A supply of easily kept staples (coffee--at Ramón's insistence, tea, wine, cheese, flour, a smoked ham, a smoked chicken, dried pasta and beans, and bread) is secure in a small pantry. There is a large bed tucked into one corner of the room--large enough for two--with soft sheets, thick blankets, and fluffy pillows.

"What is he up to," she wonders aloud as she sets her bags down on the edge of the bed. She turns to light the fire with practiced ease and feels the flames starting to take the chill off of the room.

Then she unwraps the linen package to find an absolutely beautiful gown, along with a brush, comb, and hand mirror. Deciding to take advantage of the opportunity that is presenting itself, she quickly changes from the white breeches, white shirt, dark blue jacket, and black boots that are their uniform.

D'artagnan takes his time unsaddling the two horses, storing their tack, and turning them into the paddock to graze. He makes sure that they have plenty of fresh hay (from a feed room) and that the spring is supplying fresh water to the trough in the paddock. He pauses briefly to pay his respects to Gerard, once again promising to look after the woman he loves with all of his heart.

After Gerard's death, in coming out to tend to his grave, he kind of took over the cottage--which had been abandoned since its owner died under rather mysterious circumstances several years ago. He furnished it to be comfortable and left all the staples that might be needed when riding on patrol. It's better than camping out in bad weather or staying in a nearby somewhat seedy inn.

He, Sirroc, and Ramón' have all used it at one time or another over the last two years. And he is already making plans to have Gerard's body moved to lie beside those of his parents on the family farm. He owes both him and Jacqueline that much.

After taking a deep breath, he heads for the cottage door.

Jacqueline turns at the sound of the door opening--hairbrush in hand, but she knows who it is without thinking. She slowly lets out the breath she'd been holding for the last several minutes, forcing herself to relax. She trusts him, with her life.

D'artagnan pauses at the sight of the woman he loves actually wearing a dress of fine dark blue satin, edged in finely made white lace, cut low--but not to low--to reveal a hint of cleavage. The natural waistline emphasizes her natural curves. And for the first time in months, her raven black hair is loose and flowing to slender shoulders in shimmering waves. He casually takes the brush from her hand and turns her around with a gentle hand so that he can run it through the silky strands. "Thank you," she murmurs, relaxing at his gentle touch and actually leaning back against him, allowing him to hold her.

"You're very welcome. Do you like the dress? I picked it out especially for you. I was fortunate in that Madame DeSaud had it in what I think is your size. And I thought the color would bring out your eyes."

"It's beautiful. But you really shouldn't have."

"I know. But tonight, I don't want to be with Jacque. Tonight, I want to be with Jacqueline. And when you change from uniform to dress, it's like your personality changes as well."

Jacqueline turns to face the man she's spent the last two years trying to deny her feelings for--both to him and herself, "What's happening to us?"

"You said you needed time to think--about the future. Well, we need to talk, about us," D'Artagnan's deep voice is gentle as he looks down at the woman he loves with all his heart and soul. He forcibly stops himself from kissing her senseless.

Needing to distance herself, Jacqueline takes a couple of steps away, wrapping her arms around herself. Seeing her shivering, D'artagnan immediately takes off his jacket and wraps it around her before guiding her to a chair in front of the fire. His manner is gentle and concerned, "Here--sit down and get warm. We had a long, cold ride and you must be freezing."

Jacqueline sits down and pulls the jacket tightly around her, inhaling the deep masculine scent that she associates with her best and closest friend, the man she's been in love with for two years. Almost immediately, a glass of wine is in her hand, which she accepts gratefully. She takes a sip, allowing its warmth to flood her stomach. He kneels beside her, a gentle hand on her shoulder for balance, "Better?"

"I will be in a moment. I'm sorry. I hope you don't think I'm some fragile woman who can't even tolerate a moderately hard ride."

"I don't think that at all," D'artagnan chuckles softly, "I know how tough you are--remember? But in this case, there is nothing to apologize for. It was mild and sunny this morning, but then the wind and rain came in. 'Paris in the springtime', what can you say," his attempts to make her smile, and is rewarded with a small one, though a bit watery. "Would you like something to eat? I may not be a gourmet chef, like Ramón', but I can manage something."

"No. I'll be fine. Just let me sit and rest for a few moments."

D'artagnan takes advantage of the time to change from his own rain-soaked clothes into deerskin breeches and a dark blue linen shirt, with its laces untied, revealing a smattering of dark hair. He realizes that he is taking a huge chance by bringing Jacqueline here, but with Mazuran dead--there's no need hide his feelings for her anymore. The big question is a simple one: how will she react when he tells her what is in his heart? His hope is that she accepts his feelings and returns them. Even if she doesn't, hopefully she won't dismiss them outright. And perhaps she will admit that she loves him in return.

Coming out from behind the screen, D'artagnan is amused to find Jacqueline sound asleep in the chair. He chuckles as he kneels besides her, debating about what to do. He's known from the very beginning that she suffered from sleepless nights--a combination of her father's death, her brother's capture and flight to America, his return and death, her own near death at the hand's of the same guard who killed her father, and the things that she's seen over the last two years. Yet--here she is, sound asleep. He recognizes it as a sign that she truly trusts him--knowing that he'll watch over and protect her on the rare occasions when she can't.

After turning down the bed, he kneels to slip one arm beneath her knees and the other under her shoulders. She scarcely weighs as much as a newborn foal, he thinks with a smile, as he lowers her to the feather mattress and covers her with the blankets. "Our heartfelt conversation must wait until you can stay awake," he smiles as he brushes a lingering kiss across her cheek. To his amusement, she murmurs what sounds like his name as she relaxes.


	2. Chapter 2

"YOUNG BLADES"

"BEGINNING OF THE END"

PART 2

Chapter 3:

Jacqueline comes awake to find herself in an unfamiliar room, lying in a strange bed. Not quite sure of where she is or what's happened, she remains still for a moment--taking careful stock of the situation: the room is dark, lit only by a crackling fire, but she can hear someone moving around. Then reality returns in a flash: Mazuran's death, the ride with D'artagnan to the cottage, seeing her brother's grave for the first time in a year,

and sitting in front of the fire with a glass of wine. She must have fallen asleep while waiting on him to change clothes. Attempting to sit up, she discovers that she was gently tucked under a heavy blanket. A deep voice startles her, briefly, but she relaxes when she realizes whom it belongs to, "So my Princess awakes."

"How long have I been asleep?"

D'artagnan pulls a pocket watch from his jacket, tossed over the chair in front of the fire, "Not long. Only an hour or so. You were exhausted. Would you care for something to eat? I've warmed up some soup that I brought with us from the cafe'."

"Yes--please."

D'artagnan sets a tray with a bowl of soup in front of Jacqueline, along with another glass of wine and piece of bread. "How long have you been planning this," she asks as he eats his own meal.

"Since we were first here, we've been using this cottage as something of a way station. Sirroc, Ramón', and I keep it stocked with emergency supplies--along with fresh hay for the horses. It's much better than staying in the nearby inn, which is rat-infested, or camping out in rain and snow."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"I didn't want to bring back any bad memories for you." He takes the tray from her when she's finished, "Why don't you freshen up while I take care of the dishes?"

Chapter Four:

"Are you warm enough," D'artagnan asks when Jacqueline returns. She does look a bit better, having regained her color and the spark to her eyes. But their dark blue (inherited from her mother--he supposes) depths are alert and wary. He hates himself for being the cause of her wariness--but the time has come for a confession.

Jacqueline returns to the chair in front of the fire, snuggling back into his jacket, "I think so. I'm just--exhausted from everything that has happened."

"I understand. We've been through an awful lot over the last two years--both of us. Jacqueline, we need to talk." D'artagnan takes a deep breath, "Two things happened the last time you were here."

"My brother was killed. And I almost died."

"As you were lying in that bed--tossing in a fever caused by the stab wound--I told you something. Something you must not remember. But I want you to hear it--and not through a feverish haze. Earlier this morning, you said that you have no one left. That's not true--you have me."

Jacqueline turns to look at him, "But for how long? Until the next pretty girl bats her eyes or flaunts her chest at you?"

D'artagnan can't hide the hurt in his voice, "Do you honestly believe that about me?"

Jacqueline shrugs her shoulders, trying her best to ignore the pain she must have caused him with her comment, "You do have that reputation. And how many times have I seen women throwing themselves at you?"

"And how many times have I taken them up on their invitations," he demands softly, moving to stand beside the fire.

She looks down at her hands, trying to ignore the hurt, "How would I know? It is none of my business what you do in your free time."

"Most of my off-duty time is spent with you--remember? And for your information, though he was often gone for long periods, my father was always faithful to my mother. Just as I've been to you. From the moment I first saw you lying on the ground, my thoughts have been consumed not with some buxom blond, but with a raven-haired beauty with the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen."

"Do you truly expect me to believe that?"

"It is the truth, whether you believe it or not. Why do you think I only allowed Sirroc treat your wound? Why do you think I spent hours applying cold cloths to your forehead and neck as you tossed and turned in a fever? It is because I am in love with you. I spent two days at your side, holding you when the fever had you in its grips. And bathing you to bring it down."

"You would have done that for anyone," Jacqueline snaps, still not looking up.

"Not anyone: you, the woman I love with all of my heart." D'artagnan kneels beside her and picks up one of her hands, kissing it gently, his lips lingering on the smooth skin, "I told you that I loved you several times, while you were feverish. The fact that I was with you seemed to help calm you. Sirroc even remarked how simply hearing my voice seemed to help calm you. When I was beside you, you were able to rest and allow the medicine he gave you to do its healing work."

Jacqueline's voice is soft, "I do remember you, being with me. Albeit my mind is somewhat hazy about those days."

"You can ask Sirroc and Ramón'. I never left your side from the moment that I ran in and found you lying on the floor. You were unconscious, and running a high fever, not to mention being covered in blood--not only Gerard's, but your own as well." D'artagnan closes his eyes against the memories, then reopens them, "I picked you up and placed you on the bed myself. Do you remember when I took you to see his grave?"

"We were alone. You held me. I remember you stroking my hair, not saying a word, simply holding me. I needed you then, like I've never needed anyone before or since. And you were there."

"That is the only time you ever cried in front of me. For the few seconds I held you in my arms, I thought my heart would stop beating. And I whispered that I loved you, that I would always love you. For days afterward, I would walk by your room at night and hear you crying in your sleep. I would step in and kneel by your side, speaking softly. And you would calm down, returning to a deep sleep."

Jacqueline looks up, her eyes and voice filled with wonder, "Everything you just said, I thought was fever dreams. Especially when you came into my room at night. I remember hearing your voice and it made the bad dreams go away."

"This, now, isn't a dream or a nightmare. I'm telling you here and now: I love you. You are my life, my love, my heart."


	3. Chapter 3

"YOUNG BLADES"

"BEGINNING OF THE END"

PART 3

Chapter Five:

"If you love me so much, why were you willing to allow me to go with Charles,"

Jacqueline asks, referring to the time not to long ago when they met the exiled King of England and he asked her to marry him. She almost left with him, only to stop when he betrayed her trust to make an attempt on Oliver Cromwell's life.

"There is a saying: 'if you love something, let it go; if it comes back to you, it is meant to be.' Yes, I love you. But I wanted you to be happy. If becoming Queen meant your happiness, I was willing to let you leave. But you came back to me."

"Because I couldn't trust him. And in retrospect, I really wasn't in love with him. I was more in love with the idea of being in love than with the man himself."

"Ask yourself this: have I ever once betrayed your trust? I know I tease you a bit, but I do it to lessen the tension you feel sometimes. Have I ever hurt you--either by word or deed?"

Jacqueline thinks a moment, "No--never."

"That is because I love you. And have from the first moment I set eyes on you. My wish is that you return those feelings. That's why I brought you here--so that we could talk in private. You said you were not sure of where to go now, or what to do. But 'I'm here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you ("All I Ask of You",

Phantom of the Opera)'. I want to spend the rest of my life with you at my side, as my wife."

Jacqueline finally looks, tears streaming down her face. Without thinking, D'artagnan wipes them with a clean handkerchief. His voice is gentle, barely above a whisper, "You are my heart, my life, my love."

"Now who is the poet?"

"You seem to bring it out in me."

Chapter Six:

"There--there are things about me that you don't know."

"I know everything I need to know."

"No--you don't. I don't know how to sew or cook very well. I'm hopeless with a needle and in the kitchen. My uncle used to tell my father to stop indulging me and get someone to teach me all those things that a good wife should know. My father, who was in the Army until a riding accident left him with a bad leg, told him I should be able to defend myself in the event that there wasn't an honorable man around. So I learned to fight, ride, and shoot."

"That doesn't matter. What I know is how courageous and intelligent you are. And any one who can beat me in a sword fight deserves my respect. But you have my love and adoration as well. I am asking you to marry me. Spend the rest of your life with me."

"Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"I have never been more sure of anything in my life."

Jacqueline looks back down at her hands, tears falling again, "I--I don't know what to say, or think."

"Surely you have suspected how I feel about you. My question is how do you feel about me? You must have feelings for me--to have tolerated me for this long without killing me," he smiles warmly.

"Of course I do. And I have from the first. But I wasn't willing to risk loosing our friendship. From the first, you've treated me like a friend, not a woman."

"Do not misunderstand me, I do find you very attractive, beautiful. But I also admire your courage, intelligence, and fighting skills."

Jacqueline looks up into a pair of gentle brown eyes, "It is strange, but I do remember something about those two days, something that has puzzled me since. Every time I opened my eyes, you were right there beside me, holding my hand, whispering soft reassurance, and applying cold compresses. If I did wake up and you weren't there, all I had to do was make a noise and you appeared immediately. Knowing you were there made me feel safe, secure. I knew you would fight the battle for me until I was able to fight it again."

"I will always fight beside you. I love you so much."

"I love you too," she finally admits, "And remembering everything that has happened over the last two years has given me the courage to finally tell you. But when I truly realized it was when you took the blame for allowing Charles to escape. When I saw you in that dungeon, bruised and bleeding, knowing you were there because of me, I thought my heart would break. I wanted nothing more than to take you out of there and some place quiet where you could heal." She smiles at the memory, "Instead, you inflicted some punishment on the man who brutalized you."

"I had to protect you," D'artagnan tells her softly, "If you had been the one in there, he would have raped and killed you. I heard him talking to another one of the guards about how he liked his women: rough and brutal. And I can't bear the thought of anyone hurting you." He lifts their intertwined hands and kisses hers, his lips lingering on her fingers. Then he reaches into the pocket of the jacket she has wrapped around her shoulders and removes a tiny box, which he hands to her.

With trembling fingers, Jacqueline opens the box to reveal a small ring: an oval-cut midnight blue sapphire, surrounded by tiny round-cut diamonds. She looks up, "I--it's beautiful!"

"I had it made especially for you by one of the Royal Jewelers. The stone reminds me of your eyes." Taking the ring, D'artagnan slips it on her finger--finding it a perfect fit.


	4. Chapter 4

"YOUNG BLADES"

"BEGINNING OF THE END"

PART 4

Author's Note: Some of this chapter deals with men's attitudes towards women

at that time in history (blame all the historical romance novels I've read)

in somewhat blunt terms.

Chapter Seven:

Jacqueline takes a deep breath, "Years ago--when I was only fourteen, my uncle approached my father about a man who'd seen me and wanted to marry me. My father left the decision up to me. He felt very strongly about forcing me into marriage, because he didn't believe in arranged marriages, and because of my age. Too, the man only wanted me for two things: 'bed sport' and my ability to have children. My uncle made some crude remarks about how he 'would take me' on our wedding night, by force, if I didn't allow him to do whatever he wished. Then, about six months before my father's death, he came in person to see him. The Comte' offered my father several thousand francs for my hand in marriage. But I promised my mother on her deathbed that I would be no man's broodmare or slave."

"That is not how I look at you."

"I know that. But there may be a problem with my father's younger brother."

"What about him?"

"He is my only living relative. And under French law, he is my guardian until I turn twenty-one."

"When will that be?"

"On April twenty-second, a week from today. If he discovers that I am alive, and now cleared of the murder charges, he will force me to marry the Comte'--for a large amount of money and his connections at Court. Even though he despises our current King, he desperately wants to be accepted at Court."

D'artagnan thoughtfully strokes his chin, his mind working, "I think we should simply wait to announce publicly that Jacqueline is alive. Until you turn twenty-one. And too, he would be foolish to bother the betrothed of one of the King's Musketeers. Until then, you will remain Jacque."

"Which brings me to another question: what about the Musketeers? And what will Sirroc and Ramón' say when they discover that Jacque is Jacqueline, a wanted murderess, who was hiding in open sight? Not to mention what Captain Duvall will say."

"Actually, they already know who you are."

Jacqueline can't conceal her shock and dismay, "What?"

"It was while you were ill. Sirroc was treating your wounds when he made the discovery. The three of us discussed your situation as we kept watch. They understood why Jacqueline became Jacque. Do not worry, Sirroc did not see any thing, as I am the one who bathed and held you when the fever rose."

"There is something else: I have no dowry. When my father was killed, I was left with no money. My uncle has taken over the farm, except for the house, which he leases to our neighbor. And he certainly will not give me money for a dowry."

"Personally, I have never believed in them myself. My father taught me that it is not important to a marriage. He actually refused my mother's. Instead, he put it into a trust for me. I am actually quite wealthy. Not in the same class as His Majesty, but enough for us to live very comfortably." D'artagnan lifts their intertwined hands to kiss hers gently, "I love you, Jacqueline Roget. I want to spend the rest of my life at your side.

Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

"Yes--yes I will. And I'm honored that you asked me."

"No, it is I who am honored. We will talk to the priest as soon as you turn twenty-one. We will set a date then. But I do not want to wait to long to make you my wife."

Jacqueline manages a small laugh, "You are afraid that I will change my mind?"

"No. I am afraid that someone will see how beautiful you are."

She looks up again, "There is something else you should know."

"What is it, My Love?"

Jacqueline can't resist raising an eyebrow, "'My Love'?"

"What else should I call you?"

"I suppose. But you should know--I have never been with a man. At least not in a literal sense."

"I do not see that as a problem. I promise that when we make love, we will take things very slowly. The word 'no' will always be respected. And with us, it will be making love, I do not see you as just a warm body or mother to my children." D'artagnan takes a deep breath, "There is something I should tell you as well. Two years ago, I was engaged. It ended shortly before you and I met."

"Would it be rude of me to ask what happened?"

"Not at all. I want you to know what happened. Her name was Serena, the daughter of a duke who was a close friend and advisor to the late King. She was beautiful: a tall, willowy girl with pale blonde hair and blue eyes. I first met her when I stopped a bandit from attempting to rob the carriage she was returning to Paris in. Her beauty and charm captivated me. But I now realize what I felt for her was nothing compared to what I feel for you. I was merely infatuated with her. Those feelings were nothing compared to the deep and abiding love I have for you."

"Why are you not married to her now?"

"I asked her father for her hand in marriage within three months of meeting her. I was positive that I had found the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I was willing to give up the life I love to be with her, accepting her father's offer to become his heir, as he had no sons of his own. Then, she told me she was with child."

"From what you just said, the child was not yours?"

"I had done nothing more than kiss her hand. But she begged me to marry her still, saying she would happily bear my children. She refused to tell me who the father of the child was. I later learned that the father was once one of my closest friends."

"Not Sirroc or Ramón'," Jacqueline is horrified at the thought of the men betraying one another in that way. They are far to close, more like brothers than friends.

"No. It was a man I had grown up with. When she refused to accept the fact that I would not marry her, I went to her father and explained why. Of course he did his best to convince me that it did not matter that she was carrying another man's child. That she would bear my own children. But I refuse to marry a woman who would not be as faithful to me as I am to her. Two weeks after I confronted her and her father, she married her lover at his estate in Cologne. The day that I received word, I went to a tavern and drank myself insensible for two days. Sirroc and Ramón' found me and dragged me back to the Barracks, then left me alone to sleep it off. They told Captain Duval what happened, so he left me alone for a few days. After that, I gave up on finding someone to share my life with. And two months later, you fell out of that tree."

"She obviously did not have much character, to have betrayed the man she was betrothed to," Jacqueline observes.

"No, she did not. And it turned out that he was not the first man she had been intimate with. He was the only one to get her with child. I recently saw him and he told me that I had a lucky escape--that she is a regular little hellion."

"I give you my word that I will always be faithful to you."

"I know. And I give you the same vow."

"My mother's health was always very frail. Giving birth to Gerard almost killed her. And she never fully recovered from loosing my baby sister in late pregnancy. But my father was always faithful to her. Even after her death, he never looked at another woman. Even though my uncle constantly urged him to find a woman to occupy his bed and help to raise Gerard and I. He tended her grave faithfully until he was murdered. Fortunately, my neighbor has been tending both graves. I have given him money several times."

"I wish I could have met your father. Since I liked his son and like his daughter, I believe I would have liked him.

"He would have liked you as well. Especially if he knew I could beat you in a sword fight," Jacqueline laughs warmly.

D'artagnan relaxes. If she's laughing, she's feeling better, "He is the one who taught you to fight?"

She smiles at the memories, "He was a firm believer in a woman being able to defend herself. He also taught me to ride. One of our other neighbors has a granddaughter who is also a good rider. She and I would gallop our horses over the countryside, taking jumps as they came. How will your father feel about our marrying--especially since you'll be marrying a poor farm girl with no breeding or background?"

"He will be absolutely delighted. He has wanted me to marry for quite some time. Sirroc and Ramón' will be as well. And if we do have to leave the Musketeers in order to be together, I have a small town home that I inherited from my mother's family.

We will even have servants to do all those things you do not like to do."

"My uncle is going to be furious since I will not be marrying the Comte', who would abuse me."

"No. Instead you will be marrying a man who absolutely loves and adores you. Do not get me wrong, I do want to make love to you and am looking forward to our wedding night. But there are things far more important than the physical aspects of our marriage--such as love, trust, and friendship. Those will be the cornerstones of what I pray will be a happy marriage."

"At least you will not be the typical demanding husband I have always heard so much about."

"Unlike many marriages, ours will not be one of merely convenience. One where we come together merely to conceive children and I seek my physical pleasures outside of the marriage bed. That is what the late King had with Her Majesty. It was arranged for political reasons, and his need for an heir. The result was that they were both very unhappy. She wanted and needed his love, but he needed only his many mistresses. He wanted more than one legitimate child, to secure the family line, but by that time, she was unable to bear his touch--knowing about the other women he had been with. Sirroc has heard the rumor that he contracted the disease that he died of from one of his mistresses.

When he died, it was a relief to the Queen.

"One of her ladies'-in-waiting told my father that on their wedding night, he took her with no preparation--seeking only his release and to get his heir. He kept going to her room until she was carrying His Majesty. Once she was, he left her alone until sometime after the birth."

"How do you feel about a man having a mistress?"

"I do not like it. Or believe in it. I know it is common, but I do not like it. If a man truly loves the woman he is married to, he will not forsake her for another. Too,

the King often selected women who felt as if they had no choice in the matter, as they were from the lower classes. That is often the result of marriages of convenience. The men often father children with the women they have affairs with, then do not support them. The children grow up with the stigma of being born out of wedlock, and are often insanely jealous of the legitimate children."

"And if I am unable to have children? What will you do then? Will you take a mistress to father a child, then expect me to raise it as my own?"

"Do you truly believe that I would do that to you?"

Jacqueline shakes her head, but decides to be very blunt with him, giving him an out of his proposal if he needs it, "No, of course not. But I am being realistic now. Men need a male child to carry on their family name. My monthly flow has always been, shall I say, irregular. And especially in the last two years, it has been very unpredictable. There is a possibility that I may not be able to have a child."

D'artagnan's voice is gentle, as are his eyes, "That is not even an issue. If you are unable to have a child, we can always go to the orphanage and adopt one. And if you only have a girl, she will be just as loved as her mother is." Standing, he pulls Jacqueline to her feet and into his arms, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder, his voice low and gentle as he strokes her silky hair, "I love you so much."

Jacqueline buries her face in his chest, allowing him to hold her. After a moment, she looks up into a pair of concerned brown eyes, finding that they hold the love that she's been searching for all of her life, "I love you too."

Putting a gentle hand on her chin, D'artagnan tilts her head up so that he can look deep into her dark blue eyes. Without a second thought, he lowers his lips to hers, gently coaxing her to open her mouth. His tongue plunges in as he bends her back against his strong arm as she melts against him. After a long silent moment, he lifts up and looks back into her eyes, "Was that all right? Or too much too soon? I've wanted to do that for two years."

"No--it's perfect, just like I have always imagined you would kiss me: gentle and tender, yet demanding that I respond. I just was not expecting it." Taking the initiative, Jacqueline stands on her toes to kiss him back. This time, she wraps her arms around his neck as time stands still.


	5. Chapter 5

"YOUNG BLADES"

"BEGINNING OF THE END"

PART 5

Chapter Eight:

After another passionate kiss, D'artagnan urges Jacqueline back to her chair with a soft sigh and kneels beside her, "As much as I hate to end this, we had best get some rest. It has been a long day, and we have a long ride back to Paris. And I would like to stop and see your uncle on our way. I would like to inform him of our betrothal."

Jacqueline cannot help but shudder at the thought of seeing her uncle again, "Must we?"

"Oui. However, for the time being, you will remain Jacque, not Jacqueline. We must not do anything to arouse his suspicions of the two of you being the same person. From what you have said, he would do something we would all regret. Is that all right with you?"

"After two years, another week or so does not matter."

D'artagnan stands and goes over to a large wardrobe, removing several blankets and a pillow, which he sets on the floor in front of the fireplace. He turns to look at Jacqueline, "Did you bring something to sleep in?"

"An old nightshirt."

"Why don't you get changed while I check on the horses? After a good night's sleep, we'll get an early start in the morning. I'll sleep on a pallet."

Jacqueline blushes furiously, "That truly isn't necessary. This bed is certainly large enough for both of us. And your back will never forgive you for sleeping on the floor."

"I have slept under far worse conditions. That is why the blankets are here. And I do not want to do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. I believe our sharing a bed would do that," with that last remark, he vanishes outside.

Once alone, Jacqueline spends a few minutes brushing out her hair and then changes into a long white cotton nightgown. She has just turned down the bed when D'artagnan returns, "I see you have banked the fire."

"It should last through most of the night. Are the horses all right?"

"Both of them are grazing and dozing. I decided not to put them in the stable, since they spend so much of their lives inside--let them enjoy the grass and fresh air."

She takes a deep breath, "You do not have to sleep on the floor. I would hate to have to explain to Captain Duvall why his second-best Musketeer is unable to move."

Kneeling in front of the fire gives him time to form an answer, "Jacqueline, I do not want you to feel uncomfortable. And I do not want you to feel that way towards me."

Jacqueline cannot accept his words, "Please? Returning here is going to bring back the nightmares. I know that I will feel better if you are beside me."

"Are you positive," D'artagnan asks softly.

"As much as I can be about anything in my life."

"In that case, get under the covers, while I undress."

Jacqueline slips into the bed and huddles under the blankets as D'artagnan removes his boots and shirt, revealing a finely muscled chest with a faint dusting of dark hair. Sword fighting and fist fights do not exactly lend themselves to the building of large muscles, like farm work she thinks as he washes his face with water from a pitcher and bowl on a stand near the bed, then dries it with a handy towel.

Finally, he slips into the bed beside her, but leaves the decision to seek the comfort of his arms to her. Almost instinctively, she curls into his side. He pulls her into his strong arms, allowing her to rest her head on her chest. He strokes her satiny hair in a soothing rhythm, lulling her to sleep.

At midnight, the cottage is silent. But despite her exhaustion, Jacqueline is half-awake--listening to the sound of D'artagnan's soft breathing, his warm breath ruffling her hair. She snuggles deeper into his arms, for the first time feeling safe, secure, and yes--loved. She smiles to herself as she thinks of how sweet he was earlier--not wanting to take advantage of her, even though they are betrothed. The truth is: she's glad he's beside her--his very presence a comfort to her. His slow steady breathing is having a calming effect her badly jarred nerves.

And for once, the nightmares don't come.

Chapter Nine:

Morning arrives all too early. After a quick breakfast of bread, cheese, and coffee, they straighten up the cottage for next time before dressing and saddling the horses. Once back on the main road, the two horses slip into an easy canter.

An hour from Paris, they turn onto yet another seldom used country road and slow to a cautious walk--allowing the horses to pick their way over the narrow wagon ruts and through the mud puddles. Fortunately, the two horses don't balk or shy at the unfamiliar path they are riding.

Before leaving the cottage, both changed into uniform--wanting to appear more "official" than they would if they were more casually dressed. D'artagnan even took a few minutes to shave off the stubble--giving himself a cleaner look. Even though Jacqueline admits to herself that she prefers him looking a little more "roguish".

As they ride, Jacqueline tells D'artagnan about growing up with a mother who never truly recovered from loosing a child in late pregnancy--leaving running the house and looking after two small children to her husband's sister. Most days, she never got out of the bed, simply lying there--staring into space, mourning her stillborn child and ignoring her two living ones. The silence of the house, much like a tomb, is why she sought more active activities.

In turn, he talks about growing up outside Paris with a weak-willed mother who resented his father's constant absences. She gradually got ill, then weaker and weaker until one day, she never woke up. Afterwards, he lived with her parents until he decided to seek out Paris and the Musketeers.

About an hour from Paris, they rein up at an old farmhouse.

A young boy, who appears to be about twelve years old, with curly brown hair,

currying a large black draft horse in front of a small barn, looks up at the sight of two of the King's Musketeers riding up. He immediately calls his father from the house, "Papa--two of the King's Musketeers are here!" He looks at them in awe as they allow their mounts to drink from a trough.

A man appears from the house, impeccably dressed as a "gentleman" farmer: deerskin breeches, a white ruffled shirt, polished black boots, and a black riding coat. His once black hair has gone almost completely gray in the two years since Jacque has seen him. But his green eyes are greedy as they take in the Musketeers' appearance: the obviously expensive and finely made swords that they carry at their waists, the finely cut clothing, and their fine horses. His voice is clearly that of someone trying to mimic an upper-class accent, "And what causes me to have the honor of welcoming two of the King's Musketeers to my home?"

As planned, D'artagnan takes the lead--dismounting and handing the reins of his horse to the young boy, "Hold him please. We will be here for only a very short time."

He turns to look at the older man walking towards him, immediately finding him to his dislike, "I assume that you are Pierre Roget?"

"I am at your service."

"I am D'artagnan, of the King's Musketeers. And this is my comrade, Jacque Lu Pont." He nods as Jacque dismounts, holding his own horse.

"It is always a pleasure to meet someone of your fame. But to what do I owe this great honor?"

"I believe Jacqueline Roget is your niece?"

"She is my brother's daughter. I believe that Cardinal Mazuran has offered a reward for her capture. If you know where she is, I would be grateful. I have no desire for my name to be associated with that of a murderess. When you tell me where she is, I will promptly inform the Cardinal. He has offered a very large reward for her capture."

"Two days ago, Cardinal Mazuran was himself murdered in his Palace office. In his desk, a journal was found that detailed his criminal activities. Your niece's name and the details of her so-called crime were detailed. His Majesty is issuing pardons for all of those accused of crimes by the Cardinal. Your niece is among them."

"How wonderful!" To the trained eyes of the two Musketeers, he is obviously faking his delight at the news, "I have been terribly worried about what has happened to her. I have been imagining all sorts of things."

"I am pleased to see you are so delighted at the news."

"If you should happen to find out where she is, please return her to my custody. There is a man whom decided a long time ago that she would make a fine wife, despite her lack of a dowry. But of course when she was accused of the murder of one of the Cardinal's captains, he changed his mind. Now that she has been pardoned, he will want to marry her. Assuming that an examination by a midwife proves that she is still a virgin. If she is not, I know of a convent that will accept her and see that she lives a life of menial servitude. He is quite firm on the idea that she be a virgin on their wedding night, as he looks forward to her 'deflowering'. Then, there will be no doubt that the child she conceives will be his. He is anxious for an heir to continue the family bloodline, as his only male child recently died in a carriage accident."

"You have failed to mention that the Comte' Richelieu has promised to give you a large sum of money, plus allow you to take advantage of his connections at court, if you deliver a young virgin to him. Is not that why you have tried to push Jacqueline to marry him," D'artagnan comments quietly.

Shock is clearly evident on Pierre's face, not realizing that the young man knew his motives for the marriage, "I do not have the faintest idea of what you speak about. And even if I did, why should I not benefit from my niece's good fortune of marrying a very wealthy man?"

"I am afraid that is impossible for Jacqueline to marry the Comte'. You see, she is already betrothed--to me."

"As her uncle, I absolutely forbid it!"  
"You have no say in the matter," D'artagnan is careful to keep his voice mild and calm, even though he wants to run his sword through what passes for the man's heart for the way he has treated Jacqueline.

"Damn it! She is only twenty years old!"

"Only for another few days."

Pierre, his face now a sickly red and the veins in his neck bulging, tries another tactic, "Why would a man such as yourself want to marry her? After having lived by her wits for the last two years, I am sure she survived by selling herself to men. How else would a woman alone have survived? Tell me, has she taken you in her mouth? I understand that is many whores earn their francs--on their knees in front of a man. Are her skills with her mouth enough for you to marry her?"

That insult is more than D'Artagan can bear. Without stopping to think, he has his sword out and the razor-sharp tip pressed against the man's throat as he is backed against the stone wall of the barn, his voice a soft hiss, "I suggest you moderate your tongue in how you speak about my betrothed!"

Pierre's face turns even redder, "You! Why would you want a woman that so many men have had before? You are young, handsome, and wealthy. Go pick yourself out a nice young virgin from a good family while I slap her into a convent where the nuns will beat some sense into her. Like her father should have done to her mother."

D'artagnan presses the tip of his sword harder, actually drawing a few drops of blood, "That is an insult that I will not tolerate! Jacqueline is under the protection of the King's Musketeers! When I told her I was coming here to speak to you, she told me that you would react this way. Allow me to warn you--if I hear so much as one word against my betrothed, I will hunt you down like the animal you are! And you will pay--with your life. Or my companions will be more than delighted to do the deed."

"Is that a threat," Pierre manages to gasp out.

"No, that is a promise! Jacqueline is well liked and respected by all that know her. And unlike the Comte', she is not simply there for my pleasure and to produce an heir. We have fallen in love and will be married as soon as it can be arranged. I simply came to tell you of her fate. Although I can see that you truly care about her. Tell me, how much effort did you expend to find her when you learned of her father's death? Or did you simply come in and take over, hoping to never see or hear from her or Gerard again? Perhaps I should ask if she would like to take legal action to secure her inheritance." He glances at Jacque, who hasn't moved, "Did Jacqueline say if she left anything behind when she fled for her life?"

"There is a large wooden trunk that contained a few personal items belonging to her mother--such as her journals and her wedding dress. It was in the attic when she left."

D'artagnan returns his attention to his adversary, "I will be sending someone in the next few days to fetch the trunk. You will not interfere with our marriage. And for your information, someone will be returning with Gerard's body for a Christian burial next to their parents. It is a promise I have made to Jacqueline." He once again lowers his voice to a mere hiss, "It is not often I am tempted to kill someone, but be grateful for the presence of your son. For he is the only reason you live. Any man who would sell his own flesh and blood for a few francs is not worthy of being called a man. However, I do not wish for a son to see his father's death." He glances over at Jacque, "He makes me ill!"

"You are not the only one!"


	6. Chapter 6

"YOUNG BLADES"

"BEGINNING OF THE END"

PART 6

Author's Note: I know this story is dark, but blame it on my having a criminal

justice background. Too, not even D'artagnan is happy and arrogant all the time. Sometimes, his concern for Jacqueline makes him seem more human.

Warning: some rough language, as this part deals with Pierre's attitude towards women, and how women back then were forced to survive without a man's protection.

Chapter 10:

D'artagnan returns his attention to the man whom he holds at blade-point, "If you interfere with my marriage to Jacqueline--I will personally see that you do not live long enough to regret it. One last question--where is your wife? I promised her that I would see that she is well."

"She is inside--preparing our noon meal, just as she should be. And afterwards, I find myself in the mood for my marital rights. I think I will order her to take me in her mouth--like a whore on her knees in front of me. Then I will take her--like a stallion on a mare."

"Call her out."

Pierre reluctantly calls his wife out. With a sharp eye, D'artagnan takes in the rather plain housedress, the bruises on her slender arms and around her neck, and the pain that fills her green eyes. Knowing that Jacqueline will agree, he makes a snap decision,

"When the wagon returns for Jacqueline's things, your wife will return to Paris with it. Your son as well. Once there, I will see that he gets the proper education to become a proper young man. In addition, he will be taught to ride and to fight with both a sword and pistol. Perhaps a few years from now, he can become a Musketeer."

"Why would you do this? What have you to gain from it?"

"Nothing but a warm feeling inside. Your niece is in need of a chaperone until our marriage. And your wife will suit, as she is already quite fond of her. Perhaps later, she can serve as a housekeeper and/or companion. And as far as your son is concerned, I refuse to allow him to be without his mother. And it is obvious that he needs guidance to become a true man."

"And if I refuse to allow my wife to leave?"

"The bruises I can see are clear evidence of abuse. Therefore, I can and will take her into protective custody, protecting her from your 'attentions'."

"Damn you! She's mine! You just want her for a mistress once my niece is carrying your child!"

"To the contrary, Jacqueline is the only woman in my heart and life. She is concerned about her aunt. And I share that concern." D'artagnan releases the man and backs up a step, looking over at Jacque, "Are you ready to go?"

"Very much so. This man sickens me."

"Agreed." D'artagnan looks back at Pierre, "My driver will be here in the next few days to fetch Jacqueline's things and your wife and son."

Jacque drops Duke's reins and tells him to stand before walking over to where Helene' stands nervously. He is careful to keep his voice low and gentle, "Madame' Roget?"

"Oui. You are acquainted with my niece?"

"I am. She has spoken very highly of you. And is concerned for you. Will you return to Paris with the wagon?"

"Oui. My husband, to put it kindly, is not a fine man. He wants Comte' Richelieu's connections at Court, so he is willing to force Jacqueline into marrying him.

Unfortunately, unless he produces a virgin bride--he will not do as he wants."

"That is what I was told."

"He is also very cruel--even to me. Please, forgive me for being blunt, but on our wedding night--he forced himself on me, and continued to do so until he was certain I was carrying our son. Once he was, he left me alone. But now, he continues to do so--though he has a mistress nearby. He does it to teach me that he is my master. He forces me to--do things that I do not want. You see, he bought me from my father for a large sum of money, so my father does not interfere."

"Be assured, when you reach Paris that you will be treated with kindness and respect. D'artagnan is a fine man and has no respect for someone who would treat a woman like you have been."

"Thank you for your reassurance. May I ask how Jacqueline fares? I have spent much of the last two years worrying about how she is. Of course, my husband is only concerned with her marrying the Comte'. He could cares less about her wants and desires as a woman."

"She is doing very well--thank you for asking. She and D'artagnan, whom I am riding with, are betrothed. That is why he requested your presence."

"Will you please tell her that I accept? That is assuming that my husband will allow me to do so?"

"That will not present a problem. Both D'artagnan and myself--along with our two comrades--Sirroc, who is tall and blond, and Ramón', who is Spanish--will return with the wagon. If your husband protests, he will be forcibly reminded of what we have seen today. My comrades will be more than delighted to make their point--literally. Neither cares for a man such as your husband."

"He is not pleased that Jacqueline is betrothed to someone other than the Comte'.

He is obsessed with possibly being accepted at Court. He may do something in order to keep her from marrying. Do not underestimate him."

"He should not underestimate the King's Musketeers. If he does, he will pay with his life, I give you my word."

"Tell me something--does she love him? And does he love her in return?"

"They are very much in love. They first began as friends, and then it deepened into something much more."

"I am happy for her. A marriage should not be based only on the size of the woman's dowry and her ability to produce an heir."

"Please, do not worry about her. Ramón' and Sirroc are quite fond of her as well."

"I am happy for her then. Thank you for telling me and setting my mind at ease."

Jacque returns to his mount and tosses the reins back around Duke's neck. He remounts with ease and looks at D'artagnan, "Are you ready?"

"Oui, the sight of this man makes me ill." D'artagnan swings lightly back into the saddle after resheathing his sword, then looks down at Pierre, "Heed my warning concerning your niece. If anything, even a fall, happens to her--your life is forfeit. And if your wife fails to return with the wagon, I will return here to hunt you down. Jacque will verify the bruises on her arms and neck. And our comrades will be informed of them."

"Wait--what about a settlement? In return for allowing you to marry my niece, give me the same amount of money that Comte' Richelieu promised me," there's no mistaking the desperation in Pierre's voice and eyes.

D'artagnan's brown eyes are ice cold as he looks down, "Go back to hell and the Devil that spawned you! I have no respect for the man whom would sell his flesh and blood! You will get my disgust and nothing more!"

Chapter Eleven:

"What did your aunt say," D'artagnan asks after they've ridden in silence for quite some time.

"She merely confirmed something I've long suspected: that he uses marriage as an excuse for rape. And that he will try and stop our marriage."

D'artagnan looks over at Jacqueline, who is sitting straight in the saddle, looking forward. But her eyes are filled with pain, revealing that she has been hurt by what she learned, "You are worried--aren't you?"

"Very. You have seen the kind of man he is. He desperately wants to be at Court, but since he cannot produce a virgin bride--the Comte' will not help him."

"There is something else bothering you," he guesses quietly.

She sighs as she turns to look at him, "Is it that obvious?"

"Only because I know you so well. Come--tell me. We still have a long ride back to Paris," D'artagnan's voice is gentle and coaxing, which he knows will work.

And as usual, it does. She gives in with the soft smile she saves just for him,

"It is something she said--that on their wedding night, he forced himself on her. And that he continued to do so until he was positive that she was carrying his child. And that he still does, reminding her that he is her master. And that he makes her do things she does not want to."

"Why does that not surprise me? Rape, which is what you are talking about, is the absolute worst thing that a man can do to a woman. It is not a crime of passion, but of power--especially in your uncle's situation. For as long as he is in control, he can force her to do whatever he wishes--with impunity. And unfortunately, it is often difficult to prove--unless the woman is a virgin at the time. Some men even use it as a way to force her into marrying him--since her family will often force her into it, especially if she should conceive a child as a result. However, if she is badly injured in the attack--it can prove it and sometimes save her from a hellish life. But emotionally, she is left shattered for life. Then, as in your aunt's case, if the woman is married, her husband can do whatever he wishes without fear of retribution. Some men feel that it is a woman's duty to 'perform' whatever he wishes, regardless of her wishes or desires.

I have often heard of men taking their wives on their sickbeds--not caring that they are injuring her further, or shortly before or after she gives birth. Too, most fathers will not interfere with how a man treats his wife, taking his side in any disagreement. It is male camaraderie at its very worse: when a father sides against a man against his own daughter."

"That is not how you feel--is it?"

"Of course not. How can you even think that? My father and grandfather both taught me that a woman is to be loved and cherished. Not to be used and abused, then discarded when a man tires and wishes to seek 'greener pastures'. As far as the physical act itself is concerned, when it between two adults, who truly love and care about one another, it is the most pleasurable experience one can ever have. And that is how it will be between us. When you are not feeling well, you simply have to only tell me. The word 'no' will always be respected."

"That is why you did not want to make love last night?"

"We did not make love last night because that is not how I want our first time to be: in a small cottage with intense emotions running rampant. Instead, it will be in a soft bed, with wine, and by candlelight. Our relationship is based on friendship first, then love second. You were not put here for my pleasure, unlike how your uncle sees his wife."

Jacqueline relaxes, now much more confident in how D'artagnan will treat her once they are married, then remarks on something that her uncle said, "He also made some comments on how I 'supported' myself during the time I have been in hiding."

"About being a prostitute?"

"Is that what people will think? That I survived by being a whore?"

"Those who count, the ones who truly know you, already know the truth. And the others will as well. They will soon learn how brave, courageous, and intelligent you are."

Jacqueline's voice is soft as she guides Duke onto the main road leading back to Paris, allowing him to pick up a long-strided trot, "You know--sometimes I see those women in the street corners--the vacant expressions in their eyes and the hunger on their faces. I have seen them approach a stranger for a few francs. And I have heard other men talk about what they do to them--not Sirroc or Ramón', else I would have no respect for them at all. Not long after I arrived in Paris, I was searching for a missing child when I saw a young girl--she was only fourteen years old--on her knees in front of a man whom I recognized as one of Mazuran's favorite men. When he 'finished', he brutally slapped her before throwing a few francs at her and leaving her to lie in the alley.

Once he was gone, I took her to the Convent of Saint Mary's, on the north side of Paris. On the way there, she told me that she had run away from her home because her father's brother was forcing himself on her, and her father refused to do anything--since it was his brother. She has since joined the order and now works to help girls in similar situations.

I often give her money to help her."

"Now that you have told me, I will speak to Sirroc and Ramón'. The cause is worthwhile, so they may wish to contribute as well. Many of the women you have seen are forced into that life because they feel that they have no other choice. Their husbands have died and left them with children to feed, and no family to help them. Or other men, who could care less if they live or die, have put them out on the street to earn money as best they can. Their lives are incredibly short and filled with horrific pain. Either a 'customer' beats them to death, for not doing what he wants, they drink themselves to death to numb the pain of constantly having to degrade themselves for a few francs, or they die of a disease given to them by one of the men they have been with. They die alone and end up in an unmarked grave in Pauper's Yard."


	7. Chapter 7

"Young Blades"

"Beginning of the End"

Part 7

Author's Note: I don't really recall what kind of horses they each have, but did some research and selected what fit in the time frame. And if anyone recalls how Sirroc and Ramón' came to the Musketeers, please let me know. I made something up that seems to fit with the show.

Chapter Twelve:

Arriving back at the barracks, the two Musketeers return their horses to the stable and give them a thorough grooming while the two animals eat their hay. Besides their own, it is occupied by Captain Duval's blood bay Thoroughbred/Norman Cob cross, named King; a tall slender Thoroughbred/Arabian cross (named Athos, after one of the original Musketeers) owned by Sirroc; and Diablo, Ramón's' big black Spanish stallion.

Other stalls are filled with horses used by other Musketeers, two draft horses and a riding horse (being boarded by a nearby merchant). Two stalls remain vacant to accommodate visitor's horses.

Going into the common room of large whitewashed building, they find that Captain Duvall has gone to see his sister--who is staying nearby with friends while she visits one of the dressmakers who has her shop in the area. Sirroc, tall with curly blond hair and green eye, looks up from where he is reading a recently published treatise on the use of plants in medicine, "How was patrol?"

"Uneventful, for once. Apparently now that Mazuran is dead, much of the local criminal activity is going to cease," D'artagnan answers as he pours a glass of wine and sits down at the table.

"That is not surprising, considering how widespread his web of thieves was. I received word late yesterday, from a servant of the Bishop of Notre' Dame, after you left, that the Pope is already considering his replacement. None of which will have local ties, which will be good--all things considered. Three are from Rome itself, another from Madrid, and the last from Lisbon.

We need someone who will repair the damage to the Church that Mazuran did, and pay more attention to his flock than lining his pockets."

Even though Sirroc is the quietest of the four friends, that quiet manner draws people to him--allowing him to hear of things long before most people do, which makes him a source of information and gossip. He joined the Musketeers many years ago to get away from a tyrannical father who wanted him to pursue more "manly" pursuits and marry a young woman who's dowry would enrich the family fortune even more. But now, he is free to follow his interest in science (medicine in particular), without feeling like an outcast.

"Hopefully whomever is selected will be much more Godly than Mazuran," Jacque comments as he sits down next to D'artagnan.

"How true," Sirroc agrees quietly. Then he hands a piece of paper lying next to his book to Jacque, "The King sent this morning. As it directly concerns you, you should read this."

Ramón' limps in and takes the last empty chair at the table, taking the weight off of his bad leg, "Mazuran was just buried in a simple ceremony--without honors--in a public graveyard not far from here. He was buried in a simple coffin, and not in his robes, on orders from the King. The only ones present were the local priest, who was ordered to perform last rites, which he did not deserve, and his son. Strangely enough, his son's name is Christian. He had no idea of his father's criminal activities. He is illegitimate, by the way. His mother was only sixteen when she met the Cardinal, who was her local priest. He gave her money to keep her quiet about who the father was, then arranged for him to work as an apprentice. They have had no contact. He is now a jeweler working for the nobility. Apparently, Mazuran was afraid of what would happen if the Pope found out he had fathered a child while still a priest."

Ramón' is tall and slender, with wavy black hair and flashing dark eyes. He joined the Musketeers shortly after his childhood sweetheart was killed in an accident.

Riding his black stallion, he came to Paris searching for adventure when he and D'artagnan both happened on a carriage being robbed outside of town. The two gave chase and caught the highwayman. Two days later, he joined the Musketeers and has proven a valuable member of the Musketeers, skilled with both sword and horse. He's also their resident chef and poet.

Jacque takes the piece of paper and reads quickly, then looks at Sirroc, "This is official?"

"It is a full pardon for Jacqueline Marie Roget, for the 'murder' that she supposedly committed. Ramón' and I were called to the Palace late yesterday afternoon, where we explained what happened not only to the Captain, but Bernard as well. We also shared with the King some of the entries in the Cardinal's journal. The pardon just arrived by Royal Courier a short while ago." As usual, Sirroc's manner is quiet and thoughtful as he studies his friend over the rim of his spectacles. He genuinely likes and respects the newest member of the Musketeers--not only for her abilities with a sword and pistol, but her courage and intelligence.

D'artagnan takes a deep breath as he looks at his two closest friends, "We may have a bit of a problem. Last night, Jacqueline agreed to marry me."

At the announcement, there is a great deal of congratulating and back slapping,

Ramón' looks at Jacqueline, "I am so happy for both of you."

"As am I," Sirroc adds with a warm smile at her, "You both deserve all the happiness that the future holds."

"Thank you, both of you." Jacqueline still disguises her voice, even though the four are alone, there is no telling who might overhear, "I cannot tell you how much it means to me to know that you approve."

Sirroc turns his attention back to D'artagnan, "You mentioned a problem."

"Jacqueline's uncle, Pierre Roget. Under our laws, he is her guardian until she turns twenty-one, a week from yesterday. And he is determined that she should marry Comte' Richelieu."

Sirroc nods in understanding, his mind already racing with ideas and possibilities,

"Does he know that Jacque and Jacqueline are the same person?"

"No. But he does know that Jacqueline and I are betrothed. And he is not at all happy about it. He wants to put her into a convent if an examination proves she is not a virgin, where as he put it: 'the nuns would some sense into her, and see that she leads a life of servitude'."

"Never," Ramón' declares passionately, smiling warmly at Jacqueline, "I would not wish such a fate on anyone, especially someone as beautiful as you."

Jacqueline blushes prettily, "Thank you."

"The Comte' wants a virgin bride," D'artagnan explains, "And Jacqueline's uncle wants the money and entry to Court, which is what he has been promised."

"Be glad you are not marrying the Comte'," Sirroc comments quietly, "He is quite fond of pretty young virginal girls. He abuses them horribly, leaving them physically and emotionally shattered. More than one has committed suicide after he finished with them.

One sixteen-year-old girl tried to get rid of the baby he forced on her and ended up dying from massive bleeding. Unfortunately, due to his family name and wealth, he has never been brought to justice for his crimes, which are well known. You had best remain in hiding until your birthday."

"I had already decided to remain Jacque until then. My aunt, with whom I spoke when we visited the farm, told me not to underestimate my uncle's determination for the marriage to take place."

"He also had the nerve to ask for a settlement," D'artagnan tells them, "And I told him to go to hell."

"Good for you," Sirroc manages a smile.

"Sometime in the next few days, I will be sending a wagon to the farm for Jacqueline's things. Someone needs to ride with it to prevent problems. Jacque and I are worried about her aunt--he made some crude comments about what she's forced to endure. And she told how he rapes her. We want to bring her back to Paris."

"The poor senora--living in such horror. Of course we will bring her back to Paris and if her husband decides he wishes a fight, he will get one," Ramón' declares, already itching to punish the man who would treat his wife with such cruelty.

"She also told me how he would 'punish' me, for defying him."

"I made a point of telling him that Jacqueline is under our protection. And he made some insinuations about how she supported herself while in hiding. I told him that if I heard any rumors, I would know where they come from and would come after him. Also, his son will be returning with his mother, as Pierre is not a fit man to guide his son into adulthood."

"I have heard about Pierre, and you are right--he is a poor example of a father.

Hearing what he does to his wife does not surprise me. And I do not put it past him to do the same to Jacqueline, to punish her for defying him. Then, he would take her to a convent to punish her even further and finish breaking her spirit. There is one in the Alps that is known for brutally treating young women who have somehow brought shame to their families--many simply by having been the victim of a rape, others by refusing to marry the man that their father has chosen for them. Their fathers obviously do not care what happens to them, and their mothers are helpless to intervene against their husband's wishes. Most do not survive very long in that hellhole. Then their bodies are buried in the convent graveyard under a simple stone cross with only their name on it, with no ceremony--as simply as they lived, they are laid to rest. And since most families consider women as property, and give the convent money to supposedly look after the women, the Abbess is not held to account for her treatment of the women in her charge. No one says or does anything to contradict her because they are afraid of her wrath and the Bishop who is supposedly her lover. So there is no one to speak up on behalf of the women who die under her 'care'."

D'artagnan simply shakes his head in utter amazement, "I still do not see how you can learn such things."

Sirroc simply shrugs, "My father wanted to send my sister there, when she refused to marry the man that he had selected. She ran away to my mother's parents, whom helped her to escape the marriage."

"In any event, Gerard's body will be exhumed and moved to lie beside his parents. It is long past time that he received a Christian burial. Ramón', will you speak to the priest and make the arrangements?"

"Of course. Father Dupree will be more than delighted to assist in this. He has

long disliked Mazuran's treatment of the poor and women. They often had harsh words."

Jacque speaks up, "And will you recite that poem that you wrote at the service? It will mean a great deal to me."

"Of course, and I am honored that you ask. I wrote it down for just this instance. I was certain that you would one day be cleared."

Jacque takes a deep breath, "And I would like to say something to both of you: thank you. You've kept my secret, been my friend, and helped me more than you will ever know. I would have died if it were not for you both."

Sirroc's voice is kind, gentle, "You are very welcome. I only wish that you could have come to us sooner."

"I could not take that chance. I needed to make Mazuran pay for what he had done to my father, then my brother. Becoming Jacque was the only way to thwart his plans. But there is another reason I did not tell you. For the last two years, not only have I been your comrade, but your friend as well. And that friendship is to important to me to loose."

"Your friendship is equally important to us," Sirroc tells her quietly.

"Of course it is." Ramón' can't resist a couple of questions, now that he is free to ask them, "Can I ask something that has been bothering me for quite some time?"

"What would you like to know?"

"Where did you learn to ride, and fight? I know many men who cannot do either as well as you."

Jacqueline shrugs her slender shoulders with a warm smile, "My father was a former soldier. And he firmly believed that I should be able to defend myself in the event that an honorable man wasn't around--such as the three of you. So instead of learning to cook and sew, those womanly type of things, I learned to ride, fight with my fists, and handle a sword. My brother and I used to pretend we were Musketeers and spar all the time. In all of those years, he only beat me twice. We had a neighbor who had a niece who visited quite often. Kristina was an even better horsewoman than I am. We loved to gallop across the countryside, taking whatever jumps we met."

"And your mother?"

"She died when I was twelve years old. But even before she died, she was ill. She lost a child to early childbirth and never fully recovered. My father's mother came to stay with us to look after the house. I have no idea where she was from, or if her parents are still alive."

"Do you remember her maiden name," Sirroc asks, curious.

"Vaguely. It was D'Sonlier. But I have no idea of where she was from, or if her family is still alive, and if they are--would they care about what had happened to her, or myself and Gerard. She only mentioned her parents once in a great while, and that was to say that they had disowned her for marrying a 'common' soldier. She was very bitter towards them."

"With your permission, I would like to make a few inquiries to see if perhaps I could find your family," Sirroc asks quietly.

Jacqueline appreciates the offer, "If you wish, I have no problem with you're trying to find them. But if they are at all like my uncle, I want no contact with them."

"That is understandable. But perhaps they would like to know what happened to their daughter and grandchildren."

Jacque finishes his wine, "And now, I am going to take my horse to the blacksmith. I noticed that he was limping just a bit as we returned to Paris. I think he may be about to loose a shoe."

Chapter 13:

When Jacque leaves, D'artagnan looks at his two closest friends, "Thank you, for everything."

"I'm glad things are finally working out for you two," Ramón' slaps his friend on the back, "I was starting to wonder if they would."

"Now I have a small favor to ask--of both of you: would you stand with me when we get married? It would mean a great deal to me."

"I am honored," Sirroc smiles affectionately at his comrade.

"As am I," Ramón' declares, then shakes his head, "Was she difficult to convince?"

D'artagnan smiles at the memory, "A bit. But I managed to convince her. However, I am worried about what her uncle may do to interfere with our marriage."

"We will take care of him if he does try to do something. Was she upset to learn that we knew her secret," Sirroc asks, curious?

"A bit," D'artagnan admits.

"Well--it was a bit hard not to notice when I was treating her wound," the young scientist comments, "When will you tell Captain Duvall?"

"I think we should wait until she is actually twenty-one. In the meantime, I will arrange for my family's town home to be opened up and a staff hired. I hope that her aunt will sort of become a manager for us."

"Did you tell her about your former fiance'," Ramón' wants to know.

"I told her the whole story. That was among several things we discussed on the ride back. Including her uncle's treatment of his wife. I believe I was able to put some of her fears to rest."

"Excellent. I was wondering if you two would ever decide that you belonged together," the Spaniard smiles.

"So was I," D'artagnan admits as he finishes his wine, "But Mazuran was keeping us apart. And now that he is dead, she is free to begin living her life. And she is free to live it with me."

"What will your father say," Sirroc asks, curious (nothing new there).

"My father has been after me to marry for quite some time. But he refuses to push me into an arranged marriage. I will send him word sometime in the next few days, along with my godfathers: Aramis, Porthos, and Athos."

"At least your father does not try to force you into a marriage. The last time I saw my own, he came to tell me he wanted me to marry a young girl who comes from a wealthy family. When I refused, he told me what a disappointment I am, and that unless I did what he wanted, I was no longer his son. I told him to go ahead, turned, and left. Two days later, here I was. I have not seen or heard from him since. Nor do I want to.

I am happy and content here, with my work, my experiments, and my three closest friends."

D'artagnan shakes his head in dismay. It is rare that Sirroc speaks of his own family and personal life--so he has never heard this. "I suppose I am fortunate in that my father has never tried to force me into a marriage."

"My father was angry because I did not want to marry, produce an heir to the family fortune, and then have a mistress to satisfy those needs that a wife can not--as he has done. Perhaps one day, I will find someone as well. I only hope she will love me as much as Jacqueline loves you."

Ramón' speaks up, "I too am glad you have found someone--even if it is Jacqueline. After all the two of you have been through, it is only natural that a tentative friendship turned to love."

"I have spent the last year, since the cottage, trying to deny my feelings for her.

But now that Mazuran is dead and she has been pardoned, there is no need to hide what I feel for her. I told her how much I love her, need her. And to my delight, she feels the same way."

"You both deserve the happiness," Sirroc comments quietly.

"Now if only the two of you can find someone."

Ramón's voice is soft, "After loosing Angelina, then Liana, I have given up on finding someone--at least for now. Perhaps later."

"And I want to find a girl like you: someone to love and who loves me in return,"

Sirroc adds, "Does she know that you are a Comte', and heir to the family fortune?"

"I am not sure. But I will tell her, at some point." D'artagnan sets his glass down, "I believe that I will accompany Jacque to the blacksmith. I have some errands to do, so I may as well do them now. Tell Captain Duval I have gone to do some errands if he returns before I return."


	8. Chapter 8

"YOUNG BLADES"

"BEGINNING OF THE END"

PART 8

Author's Note: Sorry if I don't remember much about Jacqueline's room at Musketeer Headquarters. But again, it talks about the attitude of men during this time period. And this section isn't as dark as the last ones. Kristina is my creation, one I've been tinkering with since high school. Part 9 will be posted as soon as I write it.

Chapter Thirteen:

Leaving the common room, Jacqueline goes to her own bedroom. Though small, it is fairly comfortable--with a single bed (with an off-white comforter) and chest at the foot (for her few personal belongings). A wardrobe (with mirror on the door) holds her clothes. There's even a tall screen for privacy when changing (like when D'artagnan is flopped out on the bed as they are talking).

Setting a small box (that she removed from the trunk) on the bed, she removes enough money to pay for having Duke's shoes replaced, and a little more--perhaps she can find D'artagnan a small gift as an early wedding present.

Straightening, she pauses in front of the mirror. Without thinking about what she's doing, she reaches up to remove the leather thong that holds her hair back in its severe ponytail--helping to disguise herself. She uses her fingers to fluff out her hair, allowing it to fall in soft waves to her shoulders. Then, she removes the jacket and tosses it on the bed so that she can study her reflection.

Her hair is a glossy raven black and flows in soft waves to slender shoulders. And though hidden beneath the white shirt she wears, her waist has a nice curve to it. Her legs, though concealed by the breeches she has on, are long and slender. Unbuttoning her shirt, she examines her bust--deciding it is pleasingly full (though it is kept bound by the cloth she uses to bind herself). It will be nice not to have to bind my breasts again, she thinks.

At a knock on the door, she turns, "Coming." She quickly rebuttons her shirt and tucks it in before unlocking the door, "Come in."

D'artagnan steps in, "Are you ready?"

"I just need to redo my hair and put my jacket back on. Does this mean you are going as well?"

He gives her a cocky grin, "I thought I'd come along to keep you company."

Jacqueline can't help but smile in return, "I'd like that."

"Good. I need to speak with the driver who is going to fetch your things from the farm. I wanted to see when he was free to go, so I could know when to tell Sirroc and Ramón'."

Leading Duke between them, they walk the short distance to the local blacksmith.

Their talk is centered mainly on the latest Court gossip: who is out of favor, who is coming into favor, and whom the King is considering marrying now--since pressure is growing for him to father an heir of his own, though he is still in his teens.

Fortunately, the blacksmith isn't busy. A tall, well-muscled man, he established himself here many years ago and is known for his magic way with horses. He quickly decides that yes, Duke's shoe is loose and he may as well replace all four while he is at it.

When D'artagnan leaves to go check with the wagon driver, Jacque heads for a nearby jewelry store to order him a gift. Suddenly, he spots a familiar figure walking down the street not far from him. In a few quick strides, he catches up to the young woman and catches her arm.

Startled, she turns around--prepared to defend herself from the unwanted attention on a public street. To her surprise, despite the fact that her old friend is now disguised as a man, she immediately recognizes her childhood friend, "Good grief, Jacqueline."

The two friends hug warmly. Then Kristina pushes her friend back to arm's length, "What in the world has happened? After having spent the last two years in England, I return to find your father dead and you wanted for murder of one of the Cardinal's guards. And now--here you are, wearing the uniform of one of the King's Musketeers."

"It is a long story. First things first: what are you doing back in Paris?"

"That is also a long story. Do you remember when I discovered that letter from my father to my mother?"

"Of course. I remember how excited to learn that you actually had a father."

"My mother always told me that it was he that did not want her. But I learned that it is the other way--she did not want him." Kristina spots a sidewalk cafe and pulls on Jacque's arm, "Come, we have so much to catch up on."

A few minutes later, the two are seated at a cafe' and sipping coffee. Kristina is an unusually tall (five feet eight inches) willowy girl of twenty-one. Her hair, worn in a simple chignon, is a rich golden brown. Her eyes are a startling dark blue. Today, she is dressed in the height of fashion: a dark green walking dress, edged in finely made lace from one of France's premier makers. Even though while growing up, she preferred men's breeches so that she could ride astride while galloping her grandfather's horses across the countryside and putting them through intricate maneuvers.

The two girls grew up on neighboring farms, since she lived with her grandparents after her mother's death. Both cared more about riding and outdoor pursuits, rather than cooking and sewing. And Kristina has an uncanny ability to handle the most high strung and difficult of horses.

Two years ago, shortly before the death of Jacqueline's father, she discovered a letter from her father and left for England to meet him--with only an elderly aunt for company.

"So tell me what happened," Jacque asks, sipping his coffee.

"When I arrived in Dover, my father actually met me at the docks. As it turns out, he was there to meet a shipment of horses he had bought and heard that I was arriving. And it turns out that he is the Duke of Carmarthen, in Wales. He very much loved my mother, but she refused to marry him--as he was only the second son at the time. In her eyes, he was only worthy of an affair, not marriage. When his older brother died, he inherited the title. But he returned home, not knowing that I was on the way. He took me to the family estate in Wales, where I met my half-brother, Charles. My father is now in the process of giving me half of his estate--though he is having to go through Parliament and the King to do so."

"Why would he do so?"

"Apparently Charles is a wastrel and rake of the highest order. He doesn't care anything about the estate or his heritage. He gambles, drinks, and wastes money on women of, shall I say, questionable morals. My father is afraid that once he inherits the title, he will quickly go through the rest of the money, sell everything of value, then force me into marriage to get more--then leave the estate destitute--leaving many long time

retainers homeless. And as there are no other close male relatives, at least none that he could trust to look after things well, he wants me to inherit."

"He hasn't tried to force you into marriage?"

Kristina shakes her head, "He doesn't want me to marry for money. He wants me to marry for love--unlike he did when he married my stepmother. He married her because his father forced the match. She is horrible. And Charles is not much better. But with the estate, or trust if this doesn't go through, I can do exactly what I want: raise horses and race them. He is already teaching me to manage the family stud farm. And for my birthday, he gave me a beautiful gray mare and has promised me the first foal by his black stallion--which was highly successful in England and Ireland."

"Did you have a season in London?"

"Yes, with my stepmother as chaperone and guide. She wants me married and out of the house, so that my father will pay more attention to herself. Theirs is not a very happy marriage--since he only married her because he needed an heir. I became furious with her after she threw a temper tantrum because I turned down an offer of marriage. I told her that I refused to marry someone because he needed my dowry and wanted me for a broodmare and as bed sport. My father simply laughed and told her to mind her own business. I've had a few offers, but no one has captured my heart. Most men are fops--

concerned with how much money I would inherit, their clothing, and the latest gossip than what a woman is truly like on the inside. And quite frankly, because of my intelligence, and the fact that I can outride them, I scare them."

"And the girls?"

"Are just as bad. Most only care about their clothing, the latest gossip, and getting married and having children. A few weeks ago, I asked Father to allow me to return, as there are things I wish to fetch from my grandfather's home. And he asked me to visit some farms to view horses to purchase for our farm in Wales. There, we raise Cobs, as workhorses, and Thoroughbreds--which he crosses with the Cobs to produce hunters and Calvary horses. Naturally, I went to see you--only to find your uncle in residence, your father dead, and you wanted for murder. Your poor aunt--she is so pitiful, it is obvious that he is very cruel to her. And he offered to 'introduce' me to the Comte' Richelieu." Kristina shudders at the thought, "His reputation has even spread to London, so naturally I refused."

Jacque can't help but laugh. Despite her somewhat delicate appearance, Kristina is a well-educated young lady. She was well taught by a series of tutors (hired by her wealthy grandfather) to be equally fluent not only in French, but English, German, and Italian. And she is well versed in medicinal herbs, which she learned from her grandmother. And those dark blue eyes do not miss anything.

"Too, being half-French but appearing English--with my blonde hair and blue eyes, most of the men I met consider me to be an oddity. They have only been interested in the fortune I will inherit, especially if I do become the 'Duchess of Carmarthen', which will be over the strenuous objections of my stepmother." Kristina takes a sip of her coffee, then sets it down to look at Jacque, "Now--enough about myself. Tell me how you became a Musketeer."

"My name is Jacque LaPont, the second son of a Duke. I fled my family home to escape an elder brother."

Kristina shakes her head, "I see. Now, what truly happened?"

Chapter Fourteen:

It takes several minutes to explain the events of the last two years to Kristina, who listens quietly, asking the occasional question to clarify something. When Jacque finishes his tale, he leans back in his chair to see how she reacts to his story.

Kristina is quiet for a moment, absorbing all that she was told, "If anyone else were to have told me this, I would have said that they are crazy. But obviously, you are not. When is the wedding ceremony?"

"We cannot set a date until I have my twenty-first birthday, in six days. Otherwise, my uncle will interfere. He simply knows that Jacqueline and D'artagnan are betrothed, and under the protection of the King's Musketeers. Until then, it is best that I remain Jacque."

"Very true," Kristina nods, "Knowing the kind of man that your uncle is, and how determined he is that she should marry the Comte', it is best that she remain in hiding."

"There is a small church nearby, where they will be married. Would you be willing to stand with Jacqueline? There is no one else to ask."

"Of course. I am honored, but wouldn't D'artagnan rather someone else be asked?"

"Not at all. He is asking Sirroc and Ramón', his two closest friends, to stand with him."  
Kristina leans forward, trying to see deep into her friend's eyes, "Are you happy?"

Jacque sets his coffee cup down, then lowers his voice, "More than I ever thought possible. My name has been cleared, my brother will be put to rest beside our parents, and I'm going to marry a wonderful man."

"That is what is important then. That you be happy."

"I am. D'artagnan is making arrangements to have Gerard's body moved to lie beside our parents--in a full ceremony."

"Wonderful. How did your friends accept the news of who you truly are?"

"They already knew--due to my injury from being stabbed a year ago. But they decided to keep my secret until it was safe for me to reveal it. They never treated me any differently though."


End file.
